Psychobabble
by i-am-walrus
Summary: A year after Freddy's rampage, Nancy's life is finally getting back to normal. Then she starts to dream again. Teenagers are dropping like flies while Nancy and Quentin remain unharmed. Someone is keeping Freddy away, but who? And why? Based on 2010 movie
1. Born Down in a Dead Man's Town

**Intro:**

**This should be the only Author's note in the story, unless I've got extra information to share. **

**Anywho, this is the first chapter of my new story for A Nightmare on Elms Street. It is based on the 2010 version, so if you haven't seen that version I wouldn't recommend reading this as it does contain spoilers for the movie. **

**I'm only posting this chapter just now, and won't update until I'm finished with my Alice in Wonderland story "Rabbit Heart". This is purely because I want to have that finished before I start a new project. That way I'll have a finished story instead of two unfinished ones. **

**Please feel free to leave any constructive criticism on it about the story itself, grammar, spelling, if you generally think it sucks? Kidding, but really, I would appreciate helpful and kind words. **

**I hope you enjoy the story.**

**Thank you**

_**i-am-walrus**_

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_I am a tale in children's minds. I keep their secrets and share them inside. I blur their thoughts into fantasies kept like a canvas of art or a submarine depth. Though an illusion, it occurs every night; I give them a fantasy, I give them a fright. Nor good or bad, but always nigh? It's interesting to tell. What am I?_

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The terror that grasped the small town of Springwood in the year 2011 did not start through mere coincidence.

It started – or as some will say continued- as far as I know or can tell, with a purple tricycle.

It squeaked its way down the main road in Springwood, heading for the bright lights and the joyful screams of teenagers. Young children in ridiculous costumes ran by it, not considering the fact that it moved by itself. Just another Halloween trick, nothing more.

It headed down to the bottom of the road, towards the street lights on 3rd. The drivers watched in amusement as the trike passed them, each wondering how the trick was done yet not questioning its brilliance. The front wheel was wonky, wobbling with each turn, the purple and white tassels blowing in the wind as it bobbed up and done on the rugged path towards the Carnival.

Meanwhile, a teenage girl in a yellow coat and red scarf frantically peered through the fogged up window of the broken down haunted house ride, the guard she'd alerted close behind her.

"I told you." She repeated, cupping her hands over her eyes to block out the light of the guard's torch. "It took my friends."

"What took your friends?"

"I don't know. A-a clown I think." The security guard glanced at the young girl from her corner of his eyes, scratching his head with his flashlight.

There were always crazies at this time of year, the ones who think all the attractions and actors where actually real and out to get them. The Springwood Carnival was renowned during Halloween, the main attraction for the teenage population. Also the main attraction for trouble.

If he had a nickel for every time someone had gone up to him saying their friends had gone 'missing' he'd be a millionaire by now. He didn't know what it was about Halloween that got the kids so worked up, the anticipation maybe, the fact that these kids _wanted_ to be scared. All he did know was that it seemed like there was something in the air, these kids were too damn freaked out for normal teenagers. What happened to the typical immortal teenage thought process that existed in his time? That had all but died out, and replaced with these paranoid idiots that wasted his time.

"A clown? We _are_ at a Carnival miss. And it is Halloween." He replied as she paced from side to side, looking around wildly. She was a pretty girl, black hair, tanned, leggy.

Ruined by the fact she was a basket case.

"You don't _get_ it!" she shouted back, pulling at her black pony tail. "I _saw_ what happened. They took them!" The guard turned to her again, his flashlight blinding her. He'd done that several times since she'd gone to him; it would go in order of a condescending look, blinding her with the light then turning away with the shake of his head. And to think she thought he was cute at first.

"A clown?" he asked again.

"Yes you _idiot_!"

"No need to take that tone with me!" both of them glared at each other, the girl turning away first.

Shaking her head she started shouting.

"Chrissie! Teddy! Can you hear me?"

"Calm _down_ miss." The guard turned to the girl. "Look, they're probably just playing a prank on you. It _is_ Halloween after all. Everyone's entitled to at least one good scare." Shaking her head the girl walked further on yet still staying close to the guard.

The putrid stench of mould and piss swirled in the air around her, so thick it made her feel dirty just by walking through it. It was a well known fact that this side of the carnival had been a base for the homeless of the town for years, before the carnival was bought over and they were kicked out. Yet there was still evidence of them having lived there. The pictures of clowns that resembled the Joker on a bad day where washed out and peeling off the poster boards and rides, some of them ripped off to be used to light fires. Dark fabric covered the broken rides that had yet to be replaced, the shapes casting monstrous shadows onto the ground that was carpeted in litter.

Suddenly, the guard spoke. "Anyway, there's nothing here." Spinning his torch, he started heading back towards his post.

"You can't just leave them!" she shouted, expected a reply but instead she got nothing. Instead, rapping noises replied. But they sounded wrong somehow. Muffled.

It wasn't rapping, but squeaking, like from a rusty wheel. And that's what it was, a rusty wheel on a tricycle, like the one she used to own when she was little.

That was because it _was_ the one she used own when she was little, it even had the purple and white tassels on the handles, and her initials carved onto the body. N.C. For Nina Carrel.

"What on-?"

The laughter came from behind, from a little girl to be exact, with blonde hair much like how Nina's used to be.

_Wait...is that a jack in the box?_

The little smiled at her as the jack in the box music played, sounding like a broken and twisted version of pop goes the weasel, skipping up to her in time to the music. The girl skipped happily, singing along with the music as she went in circles around Nina.

"Run, run as fast as you can." The girl whispered as she got up close to her. She leaned in close, her eyes wide, yet the fear quickly dispersed as she skipped around to sing behind her. She felt the little girl's hand on her arm, the coldness of her skin hitting her even through her thick coat. It was as if the girl had just spent hours out in the cold, sending goosebumps up her arm.

Pulling away, she bolted back towards the guard post, but was stopped as the gate caved in on itself, leaving her trapped. She held in a scream and the little girl appeared beside her. The girl raised a finger, and beckoned her closer, her eyes large and innocent. With no other option, the young woman leaned down, moving her hair out the way. Softly, the little girl whispered.

"Here comes the dream man." The woman frowned at the little girl who just smiled sweetly, before skipping away, still singing along to the jack in the box.

Even as the girl left, the music that had come with her continued as Nina's breathing increased rapidly, her chest in physical pain with the pressure. She could feel the tears well up in her eyes but she wouldn't let them fall.

"Okay now guys!" she shouted, taking cautious steps away from the fence. "You've freaked me out. You can stop now."

"Why would I do that?" she screamed at the sound of the rough voice, something she'd only heard in a heavy smoker. Her scream racked through her body; causing her to jump up and turn to face the culprit, yet still she covered her mouth in an attempt to stop herself. The man was burnt, that was all that registered as she backed away, quivering in fear, the tears now flowing freely. If she'd been an adult she would have realised that what she was seeing was impossible. Something that could only been real in made up stories, like the bed time stories about the boogie man that would come can get you if you didn't go to sleep, or movies where you expected a teenager to be brutally killed.

But she wasn't an adult, she was sixteen and she was scared.

His right hand shone in the dull light as it hit the blades he had for fingers. Chuckling darkly, he flicked his claws together in excitement. Nina whimpered as she tried to crawl away, only causing some of the debris from the collapsed gate to fall around her feet.

Slowly he raised his gloved hand.

"I'm just getting started."

Several houses away, Nancy Holbrook woke to screaming.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

_A Dream._


	2. In The House of Leaves

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Nancy jerked awake, gripping her bed sheets as her legs kicked out against the invisible enemy. Sweat poured down her face and back making her hair to stick to her head, her breathing erratic. Kicking the sheets away violently, her newest drawing fell to the floor along with the tinted charcoal, the twisted and burnt face of a clown glaring out from the paper. Pushing herself up, she pressed her back against her head board, gripping her forearms in an iron grip.

The heat.

The heat was close, too close to the boiler room and not normal, not _right_ for a winter's morning. Light streamed in through the window and passed the gap in the curtains, sending beams of light across her bed and floor, brightening it with a whiteness that slowed down her heart, calming her breath.

She was away from Freddy's boiler room now, safe in the waking world.

"Nancy!" jumping at the sound of the knock on her door, Nancy griped the side of the head board, almost falling off. "You have to get up! School!"

Nancy let out a sigh, finally relaxing against the head board.

She was awake. Definitely.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Donald Holbrook was the newly appointed lieutenant in Springwood, and although a mediocre father, he was a top notch police officer that was trusted by everyone in the small town. Not that Nancy even remotely was convinced. He hadn't even cared until her mom-

"Morning Nancy." He called as Nancy walked in. "How'd you sleep?"He sat at his usual spot at the kitchen table, the day's newspaper and a cup of coffee in front of him. Forcing a small smile Nancy shrugged.

"Fine." She lied, pouring a glass of orange juice to avoid her dad's stare, yet even she heard the twinge of fear that lingered in her voice.

"That's good." He replied, obviously not convinced but not wanting to push it. "Remember your medication before school." Nancy paused, tempted, oh so tempted, to shout at her dad. She knew he was trying to help, he cared about his little Nancy – no, don't Nancy – but the fact that he didn't trust her, even after a year of living with him, hurt.

Not that she'd ever admit it

"Yes Dad." Swallowing her pills with a swig of orange juice as a horn sounded from outside.

"Are you not having breakfast?" Donald asked as Nancy grabbed her bag, ready to leave.

"Quentin's waiting for me." She replied quickly, motioning to the door. "I'll get something at school. You're working today right?" she asked, quickly changing the subject.

"Till tomorrow morning, so just eat without me." Her dad said, not taking his eyes off the as he reached for his toast.

Grabbing her bag and sketch book Nancy ran out the door.

"Bye Dad!"

The medication was already starting to kick in as she slammed the car door shut, chucking her stuff in the back. Making her feel dazed, as if she was anesthetised and nothing was real. Mix that with the nightmare, and the pills were no longer the life lines they had been when prescribed, but a death sentence.

Nightmares, God, bloody nightmares. She'd thought she was free of them, how naive had she'd been. That scream echoed in her head. She knew that girl, somehow she knew that yellow jacket, red scarf and jet black hair. Yet her mind couldn't find her, instead intent on keeping the nightmare fresh in her mind.

"Don't ask." She said, as Quentin went to speak. She knew how she must have looked, bags under her dilated eyes, shaking hands and unable to look straight. It was what she'd been like when _he'd_ been around.

"Good morning to you to." He replied, starting up the car. Ignoring him, she grabbed her sketch book from the back of the car. She needed to calm down, relax. She'd draw the girl, bring her features to the surface of her consciousness, nothing could escape her there.

From the corner of his eyes, Quentin watched as Nancy ran a hand through her dark hair as she looked down at the blank paper, looking just as exhausted as she'd done last year.

But he didn't push. Quentin knew Nancy, knew just how emotionally closed off she was and didn't want to embarrass or anger her by asking the question that burned in his throat.

_Nightmare?_

Before driving off her took another look at her, watching as one hand gripped the sketch book and a simple graphite pencil in the other, scrapping it across the page as she started her drawing. It didn't bother him that she chose to let out her emotions through her art rather than talking to him. He'd gotten used to it after he became designated driver when her medication left her unable to drive, legally at least. She did this most mornings, when she was having troubles she didn't want to talk about, mainly about her psychiatrist, and her father.

Clearing his throat when he realised he'd been staring for too long, not that Nancy would have ever noticed, he pulled put on the radio- knowing it would help Nancy's work – and pulled away from the curb.

Quentin had decided quite quickly, that if there was any detail of Nancy to focus on – apart from her eyes- it would be her hands, that was what had gotten Quentin's attention in the first place. He'd been in art class, taken when he had an interest in art which faded within a year.

He watched from the seat beside the young Nancy, watching as her hands held the charcoal- her medium of choice – and scrape it across the paper with the smoothest movements, her mind in other world while she worked, her headphones blocking out mundane sounds of the classroom. When he'd asked many years later, she told him that the music helped her drift off, allowing the charcoal to draw for her.

She had been embarrassed after she revealed that, realising just what she'd said but Quentin understood perfectly. For him, swimming was his coping mechanism, getting all the stress out without having psychotic breakdown. For Nancy, drawing was therapy, a way she dealt with the world without having to face it directly. When she drew or painted she felt somewhat normal, the memories of her parent's divorce, and the repressed ones that only ever came out in her art, helping her cope.

But now her art had taken a twisted form, most of the subjects being twisted, like the very nightmares she'd tried to escape. And although she told him that the memories of Freddy, her mother, Westin Hills and the pills faded into obscurity when she drew, Quentin knew different. He knew Nancy well enough to understand how her art worked, if anything theses memories came to the front when she drew, that was how it worked, even if she didn't realise it herself.

He too was still plagued by what had happened, not that anyone would guess by the way he acted, but he had always been more emotionally open than Nancy; when in front of his psychiatrist he could talk about everything. Nancy however still kept things to herself, telling no one, not even Quentin. He discovered more about Nancy through her drawings than through Nancy herself. With her parent's messy divorce and Freddy's acts towards Nancy before he died, Nancy was broken before last year, before Freddy came back. It was only recently, with the pills, she slowly started to come together.

But now, now something had gone wrong, he could tell that much without the drawing.

"We're here." Quentin said as he pulled into the school parking lot, snapping Nancy out of the music induced haze. Nodding slightly, Nancy went to leave the car but Quentin grabbed her arm.

"You know you can talk to me, right? If anything's up you can tell me." Nancy gave a small smile, one he'd come to relate to her hiding something.

"I'm fine." She replied, leaning into kiss him. "Honestly." Deciding to let it go until it came to light itself, Quentin grabbed his stuff and followed Nancy out of the car.

"Are you getting your psych essay back today?" he asked, running up beside her.

"Not until tomorrow. Dr Englund had patients he had to see yesterday so said he wouldn't be able to mark until today. I just hope I didn't fail, spent far too long on my art." Wrapping a comforting arm around her, Quentin gave her a squeeze.

"You'll be fine."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Quentin's words floated around Nancy's head as she stared aimlessly out the window, Dr Englund's voice merging in with everything else. _You know you can talk to me right?_

Yes, she did know that. But it didn't mean she'd use it, and she didn't know how Quentin would react, after all it had only been a dream, so far no one was dead and Freddy's name hadn't been said once. Freddy had disappeared after he'd killed her mom, almost like a final attempt to stay in the real world yet it seemed to have failed.

_Only seemed to have gone. What if he didn't?_

Don't even think it Nancy. Don't.

"In January," Nancy let out a yawn as Dr Englund's voice began to seep back into her consciousness, the nervous 'ums' something that identified his voice from her other teachers. "We'll be getting students in from another class for you to use in the investigation. They won't be psychology students, probably from gardener..."Dr Englund paused as he pointed to the door. "no that's...um...that's The Home Depot. They'll most likely be...history students," as couple of students began to chuckle under their breath, Dr Englund laughed with them, shaking his head at his slip.

"Um, anyway. You'll see that they...um...act very obediently. They'll be like sheep...follow orders. It was shown in the ..um...Milgram Experiment which was conducted by Stanley Milgram in 1961, that people _will_ follow orders from authority figures when prompted. 65% of those tested in the first experiment continued to shock people up to...450 volts. People will _kill_ under orders." Looking at his watch, he stopped.

"Looks like the bell will ring any moment. The saddest part of the day has finally come upon us." He said as students began packing their stuff. "Please hold in your tears until you get your results back tomorrow." Nancy couldn't help but grin at the groans of despair from several students, hiding her own. "Feel free to leave when you're ready. Oh, and Nancy, could you stay behind for a moment." Nancy froze as he said her name, the possible reasons running through her head.

_I've failed. That's why he wants to talk to me._ _Or he caught me daydreaming._ She thought, bracing herself for the news. Although Dr Englund was her favourite teacher, his teaching method interesting and funny, usually keeping her attention, that didn't mean she always paid attention, or studied as hard as she should. Recently, her art had been getting in the way, becoming almost like an unpaid, full time job.

"You wanted to see me?" she asked, walking up to his desk.

"Ah, yes. It's about your essay actually." He said, rummaging around the drawers, looking for something. "Here. I read it last night." Holding her essay in his hands he looked it over with a critical gaze, pushing his circular blue tinted glasses back up his face.

_Here we go. It was terrible Nancy._

"It's very good. Amazing actually." He said, smirking as Nancy looked up from the floor in shock. "Any reason you chose Freud and Jung's dream theories?" Nancy was reluctant to answer, her stay at Westin Hills still a sore spot with her.

"I-," she started. "I used to have reoccurring nightmares, I was sent to Westin Hills for them last year. It was there that I discovered the theories. I guess they were a comfort to me, helped me see that I wasn't totally crazy."

_Liar._ Nancy thought unconsciously, yet knowing she was right. The real reason behind her interest in the theories was to see if dreams like Freddy's had happened before. He couldn't have been the first thing that could kill people in their dreams, and yet she found nothing that explained him in a psychological way. The most comfort she found was a way to control her dream patterns, music being the best way she'd found so far. It both induced and directed them, classical music creating the more calming dreams that she preferred.

Dr Englund nodded, looking back down to her paper.

"Well it definitely helped." Shuffling slightly he placed the paper down and lent against his desk. "I'm not sure if you know, but a placement just opened up at Westin Hills, for an internship. I remember you telling me how you want to continue a career in psychology, like your mother." Nancy nodded, gripping her bag at the mention of her mom.

"Well, they've just started a new scheme for patients with chronic insomnia and pattern nightmares. A group therapy session if you will and seeing at this is your area of interest I believe you'd be the perfect candidate. But if working there would make you feel uncomfortable...?" Nancy quickly interrupted.

"No, of course not! The people there where more than kind to me. I appreciate what they did."

_Liar, liar, pants on fire._ Nancy flinched inwardly at the sound of that little voice in her head. Ever since Freddy, the voice sounded like him, tormenting her whenever something went wrong or she did something stupid.

Or when she lied, like now.

It wasn't that Westin Hills was a terrible place, not like the places in the movies where the orderlies and psychiatrist where evil incarnate and seemed happier to kill the patients than heal them. The psychiatrists were nice, warm people, people you _want_ to talk to and the orderlies where friendly enough considering what they dealt with. It was just the building itself. Nancy was convinced that a week's stay in that hospital as a patient would drive even a sane person crazy, or at least cause them to doubt their sanity. It had happened to her after all, and Nancy _knew_ she wasn't crazy. She had the scars to prove it.

"Well then," Dr Englund smiled. "what would you say if I put your name through? If you got the place you'd work under a previous intern of mine, Dr Pamala Quinn. She just started a couple of months ago so you probably don't know her." Nancy shook her head, the name Dr Quinn didn't ring any bells, but Nancy had only stayed there for two weeks after her mom's death. When she began screaming about a man named Fred Krueger with a claw for a hand she was sent straight to Westin Hills.

She hadn't been allowed to see other patients as she's been considered a danger to them – after an incident of her impaling a nurse with a sedative at the hospital - until she was given her pills, and even then her knowledge of anyone outside her own doctor and the orderlies who worked with her was limited. Her dad had discharged her after two weeks, he never did like 'shrinks' as he put it and didn't want to admit that his daughter may be a fruitcake. Nancy always believed it was one of the reasons her mom and him broke up, he didn't like being analyzed.

"Thank you sir." She replied, but Dr Englund held up his hand.

"Wait until you get the place. Now, go and tell your boyfriend the news." He motioned to the door where Quentin was standing awkwardly as he waited for Nancy. Looking down in embarrassment she gave a quick goodbye, rushing over to Quentin as Dr Englund looked after them.

"What was that all about?" Quentin asked as they walked to their lockers.

"Dr Englund's trying to get me an internship at Westin Hills. Apparently they're creating new group therapy session for people with chronic insomnia and pattern nightmares. Seems my essay impressed him."

"I told you you'd be okay. You spent a lot of time on it."

"Not as much as I would have liked." Nancy replied.

"You spent an entire month on that thing, maybe taking a couple of days off to relax."

"I-I could have used those days to double check-" she broke off as Quentin kissed her in an attempt to stop her degrading herself.

"It impressed a guy who has a PhD in Psychology and is a shrink for a living. You did well." Pulling back, he let her place her books in her locker, the faint redness of her face not going unnoticed.

"Are you sure it's a good idea though?" he said finally, leaning against the lockers beside Nancy's. "After all you did spend two weeks there; it might bring back some...bad memories."

"I'll be fine."

A distraught cry stopped Quentin from replying, everyone in the hall turning to the red headed girl who'd let out the cry. Her friends held her up, her legs having given way as she screamed, everyone else interested enough to look but not to help.

Sharing a fleeting glace, Nancy and Quentin went closer, watching as the girl was lead to the nurses office.

"What happened?" Quentin asked Paul, one of his friends who seemed to know everything that went on in the school without having to be there most of the time.

"You didn't hear?" he asked, looking liked he'd been up drinking the entire night. "That Nina girl died last night. Think some stalker creep climbed in her window and killed her while she slept. Chrissie just found out. "he said, referring to the red head you'd been lead away. Quentin shook his head, letting out a sigh.

"Poor girl." He knew Nina and her friends, they weren't the worst people in the world and seemed friendly enough. But he couldn't help the idea flit across his mind.

_Freddy._

No, Freddy's dead, gone.

"Didn't know your girlfriend was that close to Nina." Paul said as he watched Nancy walk away, moving quickly as if escaping some stalker. Thanking Paul, Quentin ran after her, grabbing her by the shoulders. She attacked him in reply, hitting his chest as he tried to control her.

"Hey! Hey! Nancy it's me?" he said, enveloping her in a hug. "What's going on?" Nancy had to look twice at Quentin before realising it was him, relief rushing over her. When she heard the scream...she thought that maybe, just maybe she hadn't woken up.

_Please let this be a dream._ Nancy begged. _Please let Nina be alive._

But she wasn't, and Nancy was awake, and Nina was dead. Killed in her sleep just like Kris.

_That's who it was._ She thought, the face in her notebook suddenly given a name. _It was Nina._

"I saw him Quentin," she said, staring at Quentin's chest. "I saw him kill her." Her voice was soft, careful, as if commenting on the weather. To anyone listening Nancy was fine, although Quentin could tell she was feeling otherwise.

"What?"

"Freddy." She said quietly, as if merely saying his name out loud would bring him back. "I saw him kill her, last night in my dream. God...I'm such an idiot!"Nancy pulled out of Quentin's grasp, continuing to walk to her next class.

"Nancy." Quentin grabbed her again. He wasn't going to let this one go, even if Nancy got mad at him. This wasn't just her emotions at stake, it was her life. He'd never seen Nancy this mad, or this emotional, but it just wasn't possible. "Freddy's dead."

"I'm not a _child_ Quentin." She spat back, tugging her arms free.

"I know that, its just-"

"It's just what Quentin? The fact I'm on drugs means I imagined it all. The pills are supposed to _stop_ hallucinations not _induce_ them."

"Why didn't he kill you if you were there?" Quentin said after a moment of silence. "If you saw him why didn't he kill you?" Nancy sighed, shaking her head.

"I-I don't know. It was almost as if he couldn't see me, like I was just watching a movie or something." Nancy lent against the lockers, closing her eyes, the idea of sleep both tempting and terrifying her. "She was at the carnival downtown with her friends. It was Halloween in the dream, but that was months ago. She couldn't-"

"Find her friends?" Quentin finished.

Nancy looked to Quentin. "You saw it too?" she asked, not sure whether to hit him or feel relieved.

"No." He said, her hopes dying down. "I _heard_ it. I didn't know what I was listening to and I'd forgotten as the morning when by but, now...with Nina...and your dream..." he trailed off, running a hand through his hair.

"What's going on Quentin?" Quentin shrugged.

"No clue. I mean we killed him, in the real world at the pre-school. How could he come back? Or touch Nina. She definitely didn't go to the pre-school, she was never a part of this. And if he is back why isn't he after us?"

"When was the last time you dreamt?" Nancy asked.

"Not since that day in the preschool, or at least I can't remember them." Nancy opened her mouth to speak, yet couldn't think of an answer so closed it again. She hated this, this feeling that she'd thought she gotten rid of last year. She wasn't the weak little girl she had been a year ago, she knew she could fight now. She fought Freddy, won and had been through Westin Hills without losing her mind. And yet that thick, dirty feeling that washed over her, making her feel sick felt just as bad, worse if she was honest, as it did last year.

"What are we going to do Quentin?" Nancy asked desperately. "What if he is back?" Quentin sighed, pulling her into a hug.  
"He might not be back Nancy. Maybe it was just some murderer, a _human_ murderer who killed Nina. Not everything death has to be Freddy."

"But the dream-"

"A coincidence?" Quentin didn't even believe his own words, and he knew they wouldn't convince Nancy, but even if it gave her just one more night of sleep and a little sense of wellbeing then he would be happy. As long as Nancy was safe, he was content. "Just promise me you won't dwell on it." Nancy was silent. She couldn't just sit there, waiting for Freddy to kill more people and go after her, or Quentin. _Maybe it _isn't_ Freddy._ Nancy never thought she'd be so relieved at the idea that a serial killer was rampaging through the town. _At least you can hide from them._

"Okay." Nancy said finally. "I won't. But the second I hear that _stupid_ rhyme we have to at least _try_ and do something."

Quentin smiled. "Deal." Looking around he noticed that the halls were still empty, most having arrived at class. "Come on. I'm taking you home." He said.

"But class-"

"You're upset and tired, and the days almost over. I'll make something up to convince the nurse, just wait for me at the car, okay?" Nancy nodded as Quentin kissed the top of her head.

"Love you." He said softly. Nancy smiled, the first true one of the day.

"Love you to."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Okay, I lied. Here's an update, but only because I could help stop myself from writing it. Don't expect much for this story; Rabbit Heart is still the main priority until it's done. If you're that interested, check my profile for estimated chapter updates and junk.


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